


and of all the lift homes and all the mixed feelings

by r1ker



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5604637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for once harry wishes the fbi wouldn't call to tell him what the score is now, fourth quarter rapidly approaching in dale cooper's time in twin peaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and of all the lift homes and all the mixed feelings

**Author's Note:**

> for a twitter pal - she's been in need for some tp fanfic so here u go lauren!!
> 
> title from kathleen by catfish and the bottlemen (uh dale/harry af)

Dale spends a lot more time with Harry than the others give him credit for.

 

Most of the time it’s at the station, holed up in the conference room with the lingering spread of coffee and donuts from earlier in the morning, or Dale’s favorite, Harry’s office with just the two of them talking. It’s little things like that that do their magic in getting Dale through the long haul he never anticipated a job like Twin Peaks giving him.

 

Harry asks him about that one day. “Will you ever have to go back?” It’s asked with such sincere disappointment that it almost pains Dale to have to answer him. His return to D.C. is inevitable, Laura Palmer’s murderer will not be on the lam forever, and there’s no need to stay in the police force of such a small town whose only crimes happen between neighbors and not hardened criminals.

 

“If they call for me I have no choice but to answer,” Dale confesses with an air of regret. He’s always been weak for the force the FBI has on him; the assignments he’s been given, ones long before Twin Peaks that had no hold on his destiny like it does, were not without their challenges but also their successes.

 

Harry looks up at him with eyes tinged with pleading, slides a donut over on a thin paper napkin. Dale lets it go into his hand and picks at its frosted edges softly. He wishes for all he’s worth that he could give into Harry’s need to have him right by his side for Twin Peaks but at this point in the month, there’s no telling what tomorrow will bring, be it a change in the case or a plane ticket back.

 

“Maybe for once you could let the phone ring,” Harry proposes, changing the game. He readjusts himself in his seat to be more rigid in posture, closer to Dale despite him being only feet away in his own chair across the table. The coffee on the table in front of him has gone tepid as he contemplates Dale, sides running slick with condensation due to the comfortable warmth in the room.

 

Dale gives his words thought, and figures that in a perfect world it’d be ideal. Maybe a life up here in the mountains of Washington would be better for his temperament, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of D.C. would do away with the blood pressure his physician was griping about during his yearly physical.

 

Still he’d yearn for the people the nation’s capital granted him access too, maybe old Albert would miss him despite complaining every time he was forced to come into contact with Dale way back when. If only there were something that could take the two facets Dale’s fallen in love with in Twin Peaks – his sheriff, the climate – and take them both across the country to coexist peacefully with suburbia.

 

“I’d like having a little setup here in Twin Peaks,” Dale speculates with one portion of the donut between his index finger and thumb. It crumbles in his light touch and subsequently gets put onto his lower lip, to let the crystallized sugar melt into him. Harry takes notice to the gesture Dale’s done a good number of times and raptly watches the tip of Dale’s tongue dart out for one final remnant of the sugar before it succumbs to the heat. “Working here with you, giving you all I’ve got on how to better understand why people do the things they do, good or bad. I’m not sure if Gordon’s ready to give me up to you just yet.”

 

Harry’s eyes become encompassed by a determination to make that last statement otherwise. Ambition to keep Dale with him is something he’s had for a long time, longer than he ever would have thought he’d have for someone like him. He tries fleetingly to picture Dale at his side in a completely different way, waking up to him every morning, wanting to see hair mussed by sleep just before it’s violently coiffed just the way Harry knows he likes it –

 

He trails off when he catches Dale looking at him with mild concern. Harry shakes his head once, twice, and as subtly as he can with Dale’s attention so rapt. Dale smiles at him, admiring the thoughts he knows must have come to Harry’s mind when he proposed someone in competition for his company.

 

Minutes pass before Harry opens his mouth to speak again, wanting to see if there was any way he could get Gordon to find someone to take Dale’s place; then he remembers that there’s no one else he can think of that could even come close to how electric Dale’s presence on this earth is. He’s getting ready to go for the phone in the corner, dial up as much of Gordon’s number that he can remember right now, and give him a piece of his mind until Dale reaches over the table and takes Harry’s hand.

 

At first he doesn’t say anything, just lets the steady weight rest in his palm for reassurance. Harry’s more than ready to let Dale touch him – something about him lately is making him crave touch more than other things – but this time it’s different. Between them is a connection Dale hasn’t established with other people in his life. Right now it’s physical, previously more emotional and spiritual, as Dale would have it.

 

“Harry,” Dale asks whisper soft. Accompanying his soft request of Harry is a gentle tug on his hand and Harry stands on response. He looms above Dale, letting his fingers find the gentle dip behind Dale’s ear but just before the curve of his jaw. There the space is warm, welcoming, and hopefully will become familiar as he leans in to kiss away whatever Dale had to say.

 

The angle is a bit strange given the height differences they’ve forged through standing and sitting but soon they’re both able to work with it, Dale’s mouth moving against Harry’s smooth as the rain beginning to arrive outside. Not failing in maintaining the kiss Dale gets to his feet and, returning Harry’s gesture, puts his arms around the sheriff’s neck. Harry lets his hands wander lower, lower to where Dale is so warmed by the two flannels he’s bundled himself up in on this cold January day.

He could stay like this forever, forego breathing and thinking if it didn’t have a thing to do with Dale, but soon the feedback substituting for his hearing is interrupted by a ring. The telephone on the desk beckons its sheriff once again and Harry forcefully ignores it. He really can’t imagine it being anyone other than someone from the FBI requesting Dale’s input – Lucy and Andy have long since left the office for lunch – so that gives him more than enough reason to pretend like it doesn’t even exist.

 

And if Dale joins in on forgetting that there’s another voice requesting input on this situation, Harry wouldn’t need to know about it.


End file.
